


Feeding the Flame

by Cassy27



Series: Nessun Dorma [4]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 05:41:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4007974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassy27/pseuds/Cassy27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Perhaps it is time to accept that Murdock will not come,” Wilson said. He sounded strangely pleased. “It was a good plan, Wesley, but it seems that Murdock cannot be manipulated into our business.”<br/>“His curiosity will get the better of him,” Wesley said stubbornly, “I saw the look in his eyes. His interest was piqued.”</p><p>Wesley tries to manipulate Matt into doing a job for him. Wilson is once again afraid that Wesley might betray him. And for the first time, Wesley admits that he’s afraid he will betray Wilson, too. Wilson reacts not how Wesley expected him to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feeding the Flame

**Author's Note:**

> GreenLoki, you are awesome for putting up with me and my obsessive Fiskley love! Thank you for beta'ing this story for me!

It wasn’t the first time that he found himself staring up at the damaged building. It had taken quite a hit during the Battle of New York.

The first time he’d been here, Wesley hadn’t fully understood the importance of the endeavor, but Wilson had wanted it done, so he had taken care of it personally. Matthew Murdock and Foggy Nelson had been nothing but two ordinary lawyers back then, having recently graduated Law School and having turned down jobs at the influential law-firm called ‘Landman and Zack’. To Wesley, that had proved their obtuseness, but to Wilson that had made them useful, and, much to Wesley’s surprise, they exceeded every expectation.

Now, all these months later, the building before him had a whole new meaning. It no longer housed two unimportant lawyers. Well, Foggy Nelson they could ignore since he wasn’t a threat, but Karen Page was still investigating Union Allied Construction, running around with Ben Urich and generally being a pain in their asses. And then there was, of course, Matthew Murdock, the biggest threat of all – or so he used to be.

Wesley entered the building and made his way up to the ‘Nelson and Murdock, Attorneys at Law’ offices – though ‘offices’ was too big of a word in Wesley’s opinion.

When he reached the door, he knocked twice, but he didn’t bother waiting for a response. He pushed his way in and let his gaze slip around his surroundings. There was more equipment than the last time he had been here. He was surprised they even had a fax-machine, though it did have a last-century feel.

“Hello?” He called out. He knew perfectly well that only Matt was present. Wesley had waited in the car for Matt’s associate and their secretary to leave. After all, he had no interest in them. No, he was here for Matt and Matt alone.

He turned to his left and entered the small office where Matt sat behind his desk, papers and books written in Braille scattered all around him. Matt stared at him over the edge of his red-tinted glasses, looking anything but pleased to see him. His eyes might be unable to function properly, but they sure as hell were able to convey irate annoyance.

“What are you doing here?” He demanded with a tight voice.

“Is that any way to greet a possible client?” Wesley asked in return.

Grinning, he grabbed a chair and sat down on the other side of Matt’s desk. He unbuttoned his vest and leaned back, making himself comfortable, because he didn’t plan on leaving any time soon, not until Matt had heard him out. And the reason why he chose to come here and not wait for Matt to go home? Well, it was time to expand their play-area.

“If you need lawyers,” Matt said through gritted teeth, “Then there is a great firm named ‘Landman and Zack’. I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to help.”

“If I needed lawyers, I wouldn’t be here either,” Wesley said flippantly, waving away Matt’s words. He crossed his legs and folded his hands in his lap. He hoped Matt could sense the ease oozing off of him, because while he might be on Matt’s turf, it was _he_ who had control over the situation. And, this time, he wasn’t going to let it slip. “I’m in need of a devil.”

Matt’s upper lip curled in anger. “And why would I help you?” He asked. “A better question is; why would I help Fisk?”

“It’s not so much about helping Mr. Fisk as it is about obstructing the Japanese,” Wesley answered.

Matt huffed out a cynical laugh as he removed his glasses. He placed them down onto the desk and pinched the bridge of his nose, his head shaking ever so slightly. “You really expect me to believe that?” He asked as he glanced at Wesley – or made an attempt to.

His hazel brown eyes shimmered with mistrust. Wesley didn’t blame him for that. After all, their entire relationship was built on mistrust and manipulation.

“Nobu is bringing in a shipment tomorrow at midnight,” He started, knowing that trying to convince Matt to trust him was pointless. Dangling bait in front of him, waiting on him to bite, was much more efficient. “It has nothing to do with Mr. Fisk’s enterprise, but the value of the cargo is … Well … Mr. Fisk doesn’t particularly care for it, but if Nobu sells it, it’ll earn him quite some money.”

“And Fisk doesn’t have any interest in his business-partners gaining money without him,” Matt said, the words dripping with poison, “Because heaven forbid they realize that they don’t need him.”

The smile Wesley produced was sharp and malicious, and Matt sensed it, because he returned it with a pernicious smile of his own. “Do this and the cargo is yours to do with as you please,” He continued as if Matt had said nothing at all. He refused to let this conversation be guided by nothing more than their negativity. “And I'm sure you'd rather have the control than give it off to Nobu.”

Matt’s lips pursed together for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he let Wesley’s words sink in. His gaze was no longer fixed on him, but Wesley had the feeling that Matt could observe him all the better for it.

“If Fisk doesn’t want Nobu to receive the cargo, then why doesn’t he deal with it himself?” He questioned. “He has enough men.”

“Because as much as we dislike Nobu, we still need him,” Wesley said, and truly, the answer bothered him. He disliked Nobu. In fact, ‘dislike’ didn’t convey his attitude towards the man strongly enough. Nobu was arrogant and pretentious and treated Wilson without respect. The day they no longer required Nobu’s services would be a day to celebrate.

“Because no-one can get his hands on stolen Stark-weapons better than Nobu, isn’t that right?” Matt asked. He shouldn’t sound so smug. Wesley’s hands itched to punish him for it, to beat that smugness right off of his face. “And Fisk needs weapons.”

Wesley uncrossed his legs and straightened in his seat. He placed his still folded hands on the surface of the desk and stared at Matt, hard, uncaring whether Matt could see or not. “I’m offering you a chance here,” He said, annoyed, because Matthew was _not_ cooperating, “You want to help your city and I want Nobu’s shipment intercepted. Frankly, it’s a win-win situation.”

In response, Matt leaned across the desk, towards Wesley, still looking like a smug bastard. “And in the meantime I help out Fisk. I take care of the tasks he rather not get his hands dirty on,” He said as his smug smile finally vanished from his face, “So why should I risk it?”

“Tomorrow,” Wesley replied, “At dock seven.” He rose from his seat and buttoned up his vest again, but he wasn’t done dangling the bait in front of Matt just yet. With small, but determined steps, he walked around the desk, towards the blind lawyer. “Be there and find out for yourself.”

Discreetly, Matthew leaned back in his desk-chair, increasing the distance between them, but he didn’t actually move away. No, his tongue flicked out to lick his lips and his muscles tensed – and all that caused by nothing more than Wesley’s proximity.

Wesley grinned happily and, just because Matt had been an asshole today, he decided to add fuel on an already raging fire that was within him.

“And after you have done this, and I’m fairly certain you _will_ do this,” He said as he leaned back against the edge of the desk and crossed his ankles, “I’ll come to you and I’ll …” He lifted a hand and ran the pad of his thumb over Matt’s soft bottom lip, “… reward you.”

Matt parted his lips and sucked in a quiet, but sharp breath which became trapped inside his lungs. His eyes flickered all over the place, seemingly unable to find anything to hold his attention, anything to snap him out of the hold Wesley so easily gained over him. He was trapped in his own desires.

With the corners of his lips turned upwards, Wesley leaned down and kissed him, his tongue sweeping over Matt’s lower lip. Matt moaned into his mouth and eagerly met Wesley’s tongue with his own. His fingers slipped down to Matt’s chin, the touch gentle. They brushed over the faint bruise that was still there from his scuffle with Nobu’s men a few days earlier.

Matt’s hand curled around Wesley’s wrist, holding on tightly, keeping it in place, while his other moved to Wesley’s thigh, squeezing it, his nail digging sharply into Wesley’s skin.

Wesley lavished him with attention. He pressed a hand against Matt’s chest, feeling the racing of his heart, and he could feel it skip a beat when he bit down on Matthew’s bottom lip, just hard enough to draw blood. When the first drop of blood landed on Matt’s tongue, Matt groaned and deepened the kiss all the more. He leaned into Wesley’s hands and sucked at the tip of Wesley’s tongue.

But the need for air became too much so Wesley pulled back, ending the contact between them. There was no denying the titillating effect Matthew had on him. Wesley ran a shaky hand through his hair, needing a moment to steady himself and to catch his breath.

“What–” A voice said behind him, “–the fuck?”

Matt jumped up and away, nearly knocking over his desk-chair in the process.

Wesley wasn’t as startled. No, he prided himself with self-control and discipline.

With controlled movements, he pushed himself away from the desk and turned to find Foggy Nelson and Karen Page standing in the doorway, lunch in their hands and disgusted looks on their faces. Their eyes shifted between him and Matt – Matt’s whose lips were red and swollen, whose chest was heaving up and down and whose eyes essentially _pleaded_ for understanding. Were they alone, Wesley would more than happily devour him.

Instead, Wesley squared his shoulders and swept a hand down his front, flattening his vest. “Mr. Nelson,” He said, smiling broadly, “And Miss Page. It’s lovely seeing you again.” Over his shoulder, he glanced back at Matt, enjoying the sight of him pressed into a corner, eyes wide and frantic. “I’m sure you have a ton of work waiting for your attention, so I’ll just leave you to it.”

Nelson and Page parted for him as he walked out of Matthew’s small office. He didn’t look back anymore. He knew what Matt looked like and he had a fairly good idea of what was going through that head of his at the moment – mostly shame. Wesley hadn’t planned to be caught, but in the end, it would only work out for the best.

“James Wesley?” Foggy Nelson all but shrieked, even before Wesley had made it to the door. “Matt, you do remember that the guy works for Fisk, right?”

• • •

If someone had told Wesley that one day he would be lying on the cold rooftop of an old warehouse, waiting in a shimmering darkness, he would have laughed in that person’s face. He would have _pointed_ and laughed. But there he lay, wrecking a perfectly fine suit, while his back was starting to ache from constantly peering over the edge of the roof, waiting.

Below, a dozen Japanese men were transferring a container carrying the mark of ‘The Hand’ from an old ship to the steady ground. Wesley could hear Nobu shout orders at his men, ordering them to stand back since the man utilizing the crane wasn’t exactly being careful. It hit the ground with a loud crashing sound and, even from afar, Wesley could hear screams coming from within the container.

But none of that was particularly interesting. With a sigh, Wesley grabbed his phone and checked the time. It was already one o’clock, which meant he had been lying on the rooftop for nearly an hour, and still there was no sign of _him_.

Beside him, Wilson was tapping his fingers against the wet concrete beneath them, bored.

“You shouldn’t have come along,” Wesley told him. He still had trouble wrapping his head around the fact that Wilson had wanted to join him on this venture even though he had been warned that uncomfortable positions might be involved. After all, Nobu couldn’t uncover their presence – hence they hid on a rooftop. “You could have spent the night more useful.”

“And miss all this thrilling action?” Wilson asked.

Wesley directed his gaze forward again and watched Nobu’s men unload a second container.

“He’ll come,” He said after a short silence. At the conviction in his voice, Wilson’s attention shifted towards him, but Wesley refused to look back at him. He refused to acknowledge the skepticism in them.

“Perhaps it is time to accept that Murdock will _not_ come,” Wilson said. He sounded strangely pleased, at which point Wesley’s gaze did snap towards him, annoyed to hear Wilson say those words. “It was a good plan, Wesley,” Wilson sighed apologetically, “But it seems that Murdock cannot be manipulated into our business.”

“His curiosity will get the better of him,” Wesley said stubbornly, “I saw the look in his eyes. His interest was piqued.”

“Clearly, it was not,” Wilson argued as he waved a hand at the scene unfolding before them. Nobu had opened the container full of women and children who were meant for the black market. Their screams had silenced now as guns, knives and other weapons were aimed at them. “Now you can end your … project with him,” He added, sounding pleased again.

Wesley parted his lips to counter-argue, but a gunshot rang through the air. His attention instantly shifted towards the containers and, sure enough, the devil of Hell’s Kitchen was taking out Nobu’s men, one by one. He was shifting in and out of the shadows, using them to his advantage. The women and children began to scream again – for mercy, for compassion, for help – and when a man turned his machine gun towards them, he was swiftly knocked out by a well-aimed blow to the back of his head.

It was a joy to watch him dart between bullets and daggers. To see him move so smoothly, muscles obviously rippling beneath that tight, black outfit, sent shivers down Wesley’s back. Whatever dismay he had experienced before, it was now replaced by excitement.

A smile folded around his lips. Wesley’s heart started beating just a tad faster.

Nobu was shouting orders at his men, his frustrations almost tangible in the air. They tasted sweetly on Wesley’s tongue. Matthew returned to the shadows, only to reappear on the other side of the container. He disarmed a man and used his daggers to slit his Achilles tendons. The man screamed in agony as he fell down, grasping at his heels as if that would help with the pain.

Wesley couldn’t help but be fascinated, despite severely disliking this kind of violence. Usually, he could never watch it. He certainly hadn’t been able to watch Wilson remove the Russian’s head with the car-door, but to watch Matt fight like this …

Matthew had always enjoyed a good fight, had always enjoyed the brutality of it, but Wesley had never seen him fight so … vengefully and ruthlessly. And _he_ had done that to him, Wesley was sure of it. Whatever had happened after he’d left his office yesterday, after Nelson and Page had caught them, it was distressing enough to leave Matthew as a tight coil of intense rage.

The sight of Matt punching and stabbing his way through Nobu’s men, determined to help the victims of human-trafficking as well as work out some of his pent-up rage, caused Wesley’s heart to slam frantically against his ribcage. Adrenaline coursing through his veins, because watching Matt fight like that … It was more than fascinating. It was arousing.

Matt grabbed a man by the neck and slammed his head against the side of the container before moving to the next target. He slammed a fist against the man’s chest, knocking all air from him and simultaneously snatching the gun out of his hand. He fired a bullet in each of the man’s knees. Only a handful of Nobu’s men were left standing, and Wesley knew they didn’t stand a chance, not against such a raging adversary.

Wesley sucked his lower lip between his teeth and bit down. The idea of approaching Matthew right now, of reaching out to touch the heat on his skin, to feel the frenzy that undoubtedly radiated off of his body … He knew he could twist all that energy into arousal. He knew he could have Matthew on his knees, begging, in a matter of seconds. And oh, he looked forward to–

Fingertips brushing across his cheek forced him out of his fixation on Matt. He had forgotten he wasn’t alone on the rooftop. His gaze slid towards Wilson who only had eyes for him, who couldn’t care less about what was happening below them. Wilson was frowning slightly, his features lined with unease and hesitance. He looked … insecure.

Slowly, Wilson’s fingers slipped down the side of Wesley’s neck. There was no doubt he could feel the racing of his pulse. For a brief moment, Wilson’s breath faltered, but then he dipped his head down and pressed his lips against Wesley’s. The kiss was soft and gentle – careful. Instinctively, Wesley parted his lips to let him in, but still Wilson acted cautiously. Only the tip of his tongue flicked over Wesley’s, and then he was already pulling back.

“You piqued his interest,” Wilson forced out, and Wesley wasn’t sure if he was breathing at all as he moved into a sitting position, “And Nobu’s human-trafficking business will have taken quite the hit.”

“Yes, you sound very thrilled,” Wesley couldn’t help but state sarcastically.

He wasn’t an idiot, though. He knew what that look on Wilson’s face meant. It wasn’t the first time he had seen it.

One final time, he glanced over the edge of the rooftop to watch Matthew charge at the last man standing. He kicked out a foot and broke the man’s leg, the crack echoing through the containers. Wesley enjoyed watching Matthew like this, enjoyed watching the agility and strength of his body, because it filled him with energy and caused his fingers to itch with the desire to touch him, to make him yield.

But it was Wilson who needed his attention, so Wesley tore his eyes and mind away from Matthew and focused on his employer. “Today was a good day,” He said. Any day where he could watch Nobu flee with his tail between his legs was a joyful day, really.

They left the roof and made their way towards the street where Marcus was waiting for them with a black SUV. Wesley glanced sideways and found Wilson’s lips pressed together tightly.

“I don’t understand why you’re so angry,” He said, “You should be pleased.”

“Leave it,” Wilson merely replied, and if he was trying to hide the anger obviously possessing him, then he was failing grandiosely – or perhaps Wesley simply knew him too well, “I do not wish to fight tonight, Wesley.”

“Doesn’t look that way.”

When they reached the car, Wilson held open the door for him. For a few long seconds, Wesley stared at him and waited. Would Wilson say anything when the silence dragged on? Would he admit that Matt’s appearance frustrated him because it proved Wesley’s plan was working? Would he admit that Wesley’s enthusiasm concerning Matt made him jealous?

But Wilson stayed quite, so with a frustrated sigh Wesley got into the SUV.

Wilson took a seat next to him and slammed the door shut.

Wesley rolled his eyes and prepared for the inevitable rant Wilson would surely send his way, only that didn’t happen. As soon as the engine revved to life beneath them and they drove off, Wilson lunged forward. His hands latched onto Wesley’s tie and yanked him forward. Their mouths crashed against each other, Wilson’s tongue instantly seeking entrance.

Overwhelmed and startled at Wilson’s sudden fierceness, Wesley let out muffled cry. His first instinct was to push Wilson away, but then Wilson’s despair, his want, engulfed him like burning heat and it pulled him in, like a moth to a flame. He felt desired, _needed_. A shiver ran down his spine.

He pressed himself up against Wilson and slid his hands down his chest.

Wilson hooked his hands around Wesley’s thighs and hoisted him onto his lap. Wesley straddled him, his knees sliding against Wilson’s hips. Fueled by arousal, both his and Wilson’s, Wesley thrusted his hips forward, rubbing himself against Wilson’s crotch. His cock twitched with interest inside his trousers and he could feel the same response coming from Wilson.

Angry sex was good sex.

Wesley kissed a path down the side of Wilson’s neck and sucked bruises into his skin.

“Always so jealous,” He murmured against the nape of Wilson’s neck.

Wilson’s fingers dug into Wesley’s hips in response. “Do I not have reason?” He asked.

 _You do_ , Wesley couldn’t help but think. The thought shocked him and knocked whatever sense he still had left right out of him. Horrified and terrified, he grew still. Images of Matthew taking out Nobu’s men crashed into his mind – the ferocity, the rage, the energy pulsating from his body … Even the memories aroused him.

Wesley picked up his head and stared into Wilson’s soft brown eyes. They revealed nothing, but it felt as though they could read every thought that passed through Wesley’s mind, every sentiment claiming his body, and Wesley couldn’t help but pull back.

“Don’t,” Wilson said. His hands fastened around Wesley’s wrists, refusing to let him put distance in between them. “I … trust you, Wesley,” He said with only conviction in his voice. His eyes shimmered with a plethora of emotions, with passion and tenderness and yearning.

Wilson rubbed circles into the inner sides of Wesley’s wrists before he lifted them up and kissed the back of his hands.

Wesley could only stare at Wilson and watch the gentleness that possessed him – gentleness that he didn’t deserve. True, Matthew was failing to resist the temptation that was Wesley, but at the same time, he was failing to resist _him_. What they were doing, the games they were playing and the challenges which they threw each other’s way, they were more than just that now. They unlocked reactions within each other, and sentiments.

‘ _He who digs a pit for another will fall into it. And he who rolls a stone, it will come back on him_ ,’ Matt had said to him. Wesley was beginning to understand the true meaning of that saying.

His eyes fluttered shut and his breath got trapped inside his lungs. The idea that one day he might betray Wilson without even realizing, that he would succumb to his own manipulations, caused his throat to constrict. Fear moved around his chest like a claw, unyielding and knifelike.

“Wesley,” Wilson breathed, “Stay with me tonight.”

It wasn’t a request. Wilson released Wesley’s wrists and brushed a hand down the side of his face instead. With a light and attentive touch, he cupped Wesley’s chin and forced him to look up and into his eyes. There was no anger or hostility in them like Wesley had expected.

Wesley nodded and released a breath he hadn’t known to be holding. “Yes,” He said, because at this point, there wasn’t a force in this world that could pull him away from Wilson.

The car came to a halt and Wesley reluctantly climbed off of Wilson’s lap. They both straightened their clothes, needing to appear at least half decent to make their way up to the apartment.

Wesley didn’t miss the way Wilson’s hand remained on his knee, squeezing ever so gently – a reassuring presence.

• • •

As soon as they found themselves in the familiar surroundings of the apartment, alone, Wilson came to stand before him. Their breathing was the only sound around them. Slowly, deliberately Wilson unbuttoned Wesley’s vest, and Wesley could only observe the delicateness of Wilson’s actions.

Wilson pushed his vest over his shoulders and let it fall to the floor, soundlessly. Still Wesley didn’t move. He … waited. Wilson removed his tie next before focusing on the buttons of his white dress-up shirt.

Wesley’s entire body was starting to shake.

Wilson halted and stared into his eyes. He still said nothing, but his silence was meaningful enough. This wasn’t going to be a quick fuck on the kitchen table or a stolen blowjob in the bathroom. This moment wasn’t fueled by anger and jealousy, despite those sentiments charging the air between them. No, this moment was meant to mean something. This was Wilson making a statement.

After a few agonizingly long seconds, Wilson’s hands slipped down Wesley’s bare chest and stomach and moved to his belt. He unhooked it before unzipping them. When the soft fabric pooled around Wesley’s ankles, he shuddered and closed his eyes.

Breathing was impossible, not as long as Wilson undressed him, stripping him naked and bare, exposed – physically and mentally, because every thought passing through his mind lined his features. They betrayed the vulnerability taking hold of Wesley.

“Are you afraid?” Wilson asked, breaking the silence for the first time.

The tips of his fingers traced sharp lines on Wesley’s hips.

“Of you?” Wesley asked.

“Yes.”

Wesley opened his eyes and gazed up at Wilson. “No,” He said, “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Of Matthew Murdock?” The mere name slipping across his lips seemed to pain Wilson.

Wesley nodded once.

“Why?” Wilson asked. He pressed the tip of his pointer finger to the underside of Wesley’s chin when he turned his head away. He obviously wanted Wesley to look at him, to look into his eyes and tell him the truth, so Wesley would. He owed him.

“Distractions,” He answered, “Temptation.”

“We can remove those,” Wilson said determinedly.

After taking hold of Wesley’s hands, Wilson guided him towards the bedroom and onto the bed. His light brown eyes were locked on Wesley – Wesley who lied down on his back and crawled back a little. He parted his knees and leaned onto his elbows as he looked up at Wilson and wordlessly asked him to join him.

Wilson undressed, slowly, never quickening his pace, and did as Wesley asked. The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he positioned himself in between Wesley’s spread thighs. The broadness of Wilson’s body stunned Wesley, as it often did, but tonight, it simply broke him. With all the strength Wilson possessed, he could easily force Wesley to submit and tear him apart. He could crush him into a thousand little pieces and leave him scattered afterwards as punishment for what he had done, and Wesley would let him. But he never did.

Wesley cupped a hand around the back of Wilson’s neck and kissed him.

A hand slipped between his legs and Wesley moaned against Wilson’s lips. The tremble that seemed to have taken permanent residence in his body caused Wesley’s muscles to tense, but Wilson was there to soothe him. He whispered his name against Wesley’s lips.

“Do you remember …” Wesley started only to halt when Wilson’s fingers curled around his length and began to stroke it. He sucked in a deep breath and waited for his thoughts to straighten out, which wasn’t easy, not as long as Wilson coaxed his cock to full hardness. “Do you remember the day that we met?”

A smile curved the edge of Wilson’s lips upwards. “Of course I do.”

Wesley hooked his legs around Wilson’s hips and wrapped his hands around his upper arms, holding on tightly.

“You offered to help me,” He said.

Once Wesley’s cock was throbbing because of the stimulation and dripping pre-cum onto his stomach, Wilson dipped a hand between Wesley’s legs and pressed a finger against his dry, tight hole. Wesley threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t know whether he loved or loathed Wilson’s tenderness. Quick fucks, hard and fast, were far less complicated than … this.

“Yes,” Wilson replied. He shifted above Wesley and grabbed the bottle of lube they kept in the top drawer of their nightstand. Only when he hovered above Wesley again and gazed into his eyes did he continue, “You thought that in exchange for my help, I wanted to bed you.”

“You put it so politely,” Wesley said, but he nodded, because Wilson remembered correctly, “But yes that is how worthless I felt back then.” He hadn’t thought back to that day in years, had maybe repressed those memories, because they pained him, but they were returning to him now. It felt as if that day had only happened yesterday since Wesley could suddenly remember so vividly how meaningless he had felt back then. “That’s how I feel right now.”

Wilson growled his upper lip curling in anger. “Because of Murdock,” He gritted out.

Wesley felt like he was drowning, like water was filling his lungs, because every breath he drew burned. “You offered me the world,” He forced out, despite how difficult it was to talk, “I had nothing, but you … You cared.” Wesley picked up his head and pressed his face into the crook of Wilson’s neck.

Much to his surprise, Wilson began pushing in one finger, slowly, but steadily, and Wesley gasped for air.

“I don’t deserve this,” Talking was near impossible now as Wilson already added a second finger, “Going to him, manipulating him … It’s all for you, but you’re right; I will betray you, Wilson.”

“No, you will not,” Wilson said determinedly. He withdrew his fingers and, instead, guided his lubed up erection to Wesley’s barely stretched hole. “I am done dangling you in front of him. I am taking back control.” He began pushing in, and Wesley started writhing beneath him, the width of Wilson’s cock painfully stretching him. “We will deal with Murdock the old-fashioned way. Your project with him ends.”

As to add strength to his words, Wilson pushed in all the way, until his hips were flush against Wesley’s. Wesley’s hands grasped at Wilson’s back, nails scratching across his skin as he searched for purchase. But then Wilson began thrusting in and out of him, the pace still unhurried, lazily almost, and calculated, and Wesley arched underneath him, forgoing whatever ounce of control he had left.

He sank his teeth into Wilson’s collarbone and enjoyed the hiss it forced from his lips.

Wilson brought Wesley’s lips to his again. Their mouths moved against each other like a well-practiced dance.

Wilson’s pace quickened, their need for release spurring him on.

Wesley reached in between them and jerked himself off in rhythm with Wilson’s thrusts.

It only took a few more moments and then Wesley came, gasping Wilson’s name.

Wilson’s hands colored bruises into the skin of Wesley’s hips and thighs as his pace grew frantic and lost its rhythm. His features contorted as intense pleasure overwhelmed him and his lips parted in a silent scream. Wesley couldn’t resist flicking out his tongue across Wilson’s bottom lip. Wilson sucked the tip of it into his mouth, chasing another kiss.

Wesley still wasn’t sure if he could handle any of this. He wondered if he would break into little pieces afterwards, but those were thoughts he forced away. He was with Wilson and that was all that mattered. Even after everything – after his confession, after expressing the fear that he would betray him – Wilson was still with him. He hadn’t left him.

Wilson pulled out of him and rolled onto his back.

Seconds passed, but Wesley couldn’t bring himself to move, couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He simply gazed up at the white ceiling, his chest heaving and his limbs trembling. The skin of his stomach and chest were sticky with cum and Wilson’s release was still dripping out of his ass and down his thighs. He didn’t know whether to love or loathe it.

Wilson propped himself up onto one elbow and covered their bodies with a soft, warm blanket. Wesley could only stare at Wilson and wonder what was going through that head of his. He couldn’t read him, hardly ever could, but when Wilson caught him staring, he carded his fingers through Wesley’s hair and smiled at him.

It was all the affection he could hope for–

“Let us sleep,” Wilson said with his distinct deep and vibrating voice. He leaned down and pressed one final, chaste kiss to Wesley’s lips. “We shall shower in the morning.”

–and it was enough.

• • •

Wesley sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned forward to tie up his shoes.

It was still early, the sun not even up yet.

Last night had been … intense and, for the first time in years, Wesley had been confronted with old memories and fears. They had left him shaken, confused, afraid, but it was a new day and it was a new start, so it was time to shove all that aside and forget that it ever happened. That was how he, _they_ , worked.

After he finished tying up his shoes, he stood and turned towards the sleeping figure in bed. Wilson was a surprisingly quiet sleeper. He never snored. He never even seemed to move. Dreams never appeared to take a hold over him, which Wesley had always envied.

“Wilson?”

At the sound of his voice, Wilson stirred instantly. He shifted from his side to his back and blinked his eyes open. It was another thing Wesley had always envied. Wilson never had trouble waking. He never had difficulties facing a new day. He simply opened his eyes and was ready to face whatever was thrown his way – as was the case right now.

Wilson pushed himself into a sitting position; the blanket fell away from his body and his gaze wandered across Wesley’s appearance, taking in his fully dressed state and damp hair from the shower he’d already taken.

“Where are you going?” He asked. His voice sounded rough, a tinge of sleep still lingering.

“Murdock,” Wesley answered with missing a beat.

At that, Wilson’s entire body tensed and his lips became two thin lines. His hands fisted the bedsheets and his eyes blazed with fury. “ _Murdock?_ ” He spat out the name and looked seconds away from jumping out of bed to charge at him, possibly to tie him down and never let him leave the apartment again.

“Relax, Wilson,” Wesley said, uninterested in starting another pointless argument, “I have loose ends to tie up, that’s all.”

Wilson continued to stare at him, hard and unrelenting.

“You have meetings to attend,” Wesley simply continued, because he didn’t wish to focus on Matt already. It was far too early for that. Besides, there were other things that needed Wilson’s attention. He still had a business to run after all. “Gao wants to talk to you and I’m sure Nobu would like a word, too. Of course, we deny any involvement in the events of last night.”

When Wilson still didn’t look away, when he didn’t even blink, Wesley let out an irritated, little sigh. It seemed Wilson wasn’t ready to let the matter go. “I will deal with Murdock and then I’ll join you,” He said, _promised,_ “The project ends, remember?”

Finally, the dissatisfaction and chagrin disappeared from Wilson’s eyes. He sucked in a deep breath, held it for three seconds, and exhaled slowly through his nose. Wesley could see different thoughts twisting behind his eyes, could see that they all revolved around the devil of Hell’s Kitchen, until finally Wilson inclined his head, conceding.

“The project ends,” He repeated.

• • •

Footsteps sounded at the other side of the door and then there was nothing. Wesley stared ahead, at the metal, and waited. He just wanted to talk to Matt and put an end to their … games.

“I know that you know that it’s me,” He said after a short silence, annoyance evident in his voice, “You probably recognize my heartbeat or the pattern of my breathing. Maybe you can smell my cologne or the shampoo I used. Or something else equally freaky.” He wasn’t sure why he kept talking. “Open the door, Matt.”

Much to his surprise, Matt did. He opened the door with a swing and then turned his back on him. Without saying a word, he walked back into the loft, towards the cooking isle where coffee was brewing. He looked like hell, dark circles around his eyes and his hair a mess. Wesley guessed he didn’t get any sleep last night.

He followed him inside, but halted by the couch. Bloody rags covered the low coffee table. Wesley couldn’t help but glance over at Matt. Only now did he spot the bandages around his hands. Bruises colored the side of his neck and expanded all the way down to his collarbone. Wesley was sure that if he were to unzip the grey hoodie Matt was wearing, he would find more cuts and bruises on his torso.

He shouldn’t entertain the idea of undressing him.

Manipulations. Distractions. Temptation.

He hated how close Matthew had been to the truth.

“Did you have fun last night?” He asked when the silence between them dragged on. He slipped his hands into the pockets of his trousers, just so he could do something with them – just so he could prevent himself from walking over towards him and reaching out to trace those colorful patterns on Matt’s skin.

“Screw you, Wesley,” Matt said, but there wasn’t any heat to his words. No, he sounded … tired. “Foggy and Karen hardly speak to me anymore. When they do, I can hear their disappointment and their distrust. And I can’t actually see the looks on their faces, but I’m sure they’re ones of disgust.”

“Double standards,” Wesley replied.

Matt frowned.

“I’m pretty sure your friend Foggy is sleeping with Marcy Stahl,” He explained.

Surprisingly, Matt just huffed out a laugh. He poured himself a mug of coffee – without offering one to Wesley, not that Wesley had expected the offer. He zipped up his hoodie a bit more, a pointless attempt to cover himself up more, to distance himself from Wesley, and with a mug in hand, he stepped around the kitchen island. He made sure to not get too close to Wesley.

“What do you want?” He asked with a sigh.

“I’m here to end our …” Wesley searched for the right word, but eventually, he settled on a simple: “Affair.”

Matt hummed as he leaned back against the edge of the island and crossed his ankles. Wesley didn’t miss how he mimicked his pose from back at the office – a subtle stab to his ego, a good one. He quite liked it when Matt believed he had an ounce of control over a situation.

“How much has our _affair_ disgruntled Fisk?”

Wesley sighed regretfully. “Mr. Fisk prefers to settle this the old way,” He said. Just to prove that Matt really didn’t have any control, he took a step forward. Matt didn’t move, much to Wesley’s delight. He simply stared into nothingness, but there was no doubt that he was observing every small detail about him. “Are you displeased?”

At that, Matt’s eyes snapped towards Wesley, wide and offended. “You’ve done nothing but use and abuse me,” He said, “So no, I’m not displeased. I’m relieved.” But his hand was clenched tightly around the ear of the mug, his knuckles white. Tension rippled around his body.

“You forget that I have a very keen eye for reading you,” He stated as he took another step forward.

He was here to end the project, to tie up loose ends, but to see Matthew so coiled up again, that energy still vibrating through the air around him … Wesley had been drawn in from the start, had recognized the potential, and that wasn’t something he could just walk away from.

“You enjoyed every second of it, Matthew,” He continued. Finally, he closed the distance between them, but he kept his hands in his pockets. He didn’t trust himself. The few inches between them were charged with static electricity. “The more I hurt you,” He added with a soft voice, “The louder you moaned.”

If Matt held the mug any tighter, Wesley feared he might break it. He didn’t appear to be breathing.

“I will miss these moments,” He grinned.

He did so enjoy pushing Matt into a corner, enjoyed the distress that caused his eyes to flicker all across the room, as if searching for an escape. _Tying up loose ends_ , he thought. This could be another end they needed to tie up. One final time.

“Little devil of mine,” He said huskily, alluringly.

Matt all but tossed the mug behind him. It landed on the surface of the kitchen isle and fell over, spilling coffee everywhere.

Hands latched onto the collar of his vest, and Wesley barely had time to make note of what was happening before Matt was kissing him, hard and frantic. Wesley folded his hands around Matt’s sides, noticing how Matt hissed into his mouth; a few of his ribs were apparently bruised, too, which only made him dig his fingers even harder into the skin.

Matt fell to his knees and frenziedly unzipped Wesley’s trousers. Wesley wasn’t entirely sure what was happening – he hadn’t exactly expected _this_ kind of reaction – but then Matt was already sucking the tip of his cock into his mouth like he was a goddamn addict in need of a fix, and the pieces of the puzzle clicked.

Wesley leaned forward and grabbed hold of the edge of the cooking island. His heart was racing at such a pace that couldn’t possibly be healthy and his legs barely had the energy to stand up, not while Matt was on his knees before him, already having teased his cock to hardness. He was flicking the tip of his tongue across the slit, repeatedly, and with his hand he rubbed and squeezed his balls.

And yet the only thing that went through Wesley’s mind was the sight of Wilson in bed. He could only think of his enraged appearance, hating the idea of Wesley coming to see Matt. He knew this was going to happen, but he still hadn’t stopped him. No, Wilson had _allowed_ this.

“Matthew–” But whatever he planned on saying, it got stuck in his throat.

Matt moaned around his length, sending vibrations through it, before swallowing him down. Wesley could feel the tip nudge against the back of Matt’s throat, but the guy handled it with sublime experience. It was a thought he quickly discarded. The idea of Matt having done those so many times already … He refused to be jealous.

Wesley thrust his hips forward and adored the choking sound which Matt produced. He kept one hand against the edge of the cooking island and carded his other one through Matt’s soft, brown hair. Matt leaned into the touch as he added suction, his cheeks hollowing out. Ripples of pleasure tore their way through Wesley’s body.

Pre-cum and saliva dripped down Matt’s chin.

Wesley shuffled his legs further apart and forced Matt’s head back by tugging at his hair. It offered him a better angle to fuck his throat, because that was what he was doing now. He wasn’t holding back anymore. He couldn’t. If this was the last time he had Matt at his mercy, he wanted it to leave an impression. He wanted Matt to feel it for days to come.

After a few more hard thrusts, Wesley felt his orgasm overtake him. He spilled down Matt’s throat, but he didn’t pull out. No, he forced Matthew to swallow everything – with which Matt clearly didn’t have a problem with.

“And here I came to put an end to things,” He noted dryly once his hips had stuttered to a halt.

Wesley stepped back and, after sucking in a sharp breath to steady himself, he tucked himself away.

His chest was heaving and his heart was still slamming against his ribcage. His gaze was fixed on Matt who still sat on his knees and who was desperately trying to catch his breath. Every now and again, his tongue flicked out to lick at his bottom lip. Truly, he was a beautiful mess.

“Closure,” Matt said with a hoarse voice after a short silence. With controlled movements, he stood.

Wesley took in Matt’s appearance. Confidence dripped from every pore of his skin now. Matt knew that he was free, that the temptation had been removed, that their games had ended, so he was back to his old self – ready to tear apart the world just to get to Wilson.

If Wesley had been smart, if he’d had any sense left in his body, he would have brought a gun to end the devil of Hell’s Kitchen. But then, he doubted he would have been able to pull the trigger. He wasn’t a man of brutal violence. He left that to Wilson and to Matt, because he was a man of plays and schemes.

His game with Matt had ended, but he wasn’t sure who had won.

“Just tell me one thing,” Matt said, “How jealous was Fisk?”

Lying had always been pointless around Matt. “Very,” Wesley answered grimly.

A pleased smile filled Matt’s features and his gaze softened with satisfaction.

“Good.”


End file.
